


Perhaps, perhaps

by scarvesandjumpers



Series: And I put ribbons in her hair, for she is worth the tangles [1]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/F, Pre-Relationship, blood demon hell - lesbian edition!, gehrman is creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 23:46:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarvesandjumpers/pseuds/scarvesandjumpers
Summary: Eudora didn’t remember her life before The Hunt.





	Perhaps, perhaps

Eudora didn’t remember her life before The Hunt. Or rather, if she did the memories were so faint, so pale compared to the stark reds and harsh blacks of her never-ending nightmare that she simply couldn’t conjure the images up any longer. Life bled from one day into the next, the sky an unchanging purple and orange, and every creature she felled left her increasingly comfortable in the carnage that her life had become.

She often forgot that life existed beyond the Nightmare. Words would swim through her mind during the quieter moments, hours spent in secluded caves or abandoned houses, wiping blood and dirt and spittle from her dark-skinned body, thick hair, and weapons – words like Echoes, Paleblood, Plague, Pthumeru, and more, foreign and familiar all at once. Eudora figured she must have known what they meant at some point, but now there was no goal in sight, no ending, no plans. She simply moved forward – on past the monsters and villagers and beasts, and oftentimes through them. She went onward and left behind a trail of broken bones and blood.

Sometimes there were hiccups. Sometimes she was killed. And sometimes she would rest.

In a dusty house on a flowery hill, the path to firelight and spiderwebs and musty books dotted with headstones and ghostly messengers, was the Dream - the Hunter’s Dream.

She loved the Dream, and in the Dream, she had…. company.

Gehrman was a talkative sort. Sometimes he would disappear for what felt like weeks; other times he would follow her through the Dream, his cackling a constant commentary on her every move. She didn’t know what he did, present or missing, nor did she really care. She only asked his advice once, but after receiving nothing but cryptic nonsense she decided she was better off.

He made her skin crawl as she moved through the creaking, groaning house of wood and stone. He’d murmur suggestions and tease her about her form and figure as she repaired her faithful trick axe, comments that made her lip curl and her blood boil with a rare, civilized sort of outrage.

(“So rarely do we get lady Hunters such as yourself. It’s quite the nice sight, a real lady of flesh and blood movin’ about, if you don’t mind m’saying.”)

Although his eyes were bound in cloth she could feel them on her when she walked. He was unnerving but bound to a chair. If he tried anything she could handle it. She gripped her pistol a little tighter when he passed.

If he was her only company in the Dream she would love it far less. He wasn’t – along with the old man was the Doll.

The Doll was lovely. Kind and soft spoken with a gentle, accented lilt to her voice. She’d never heard anyone speak so beautifully since the Nightmare began, and she was almost certain the same was true before it as well. The Doll was beautiful and made of pale porcelain and wire. She had glowing yellow glass eyes and soft platinum hair and dressed in knitted skirts and a layered cotton dress, feminine and stunning in the glowing moonlight. She called Eudora “Good Hunter” and spoke of life and love and the moon and treated her as if she wasn’t a beast. She was good. Possibly the only good left.

Eudora found herself sitting with the Doll even when she had no reason to. Her lips barely moved when she spoke, but each word left Eudora captivated. Sometimes the Doll would smile, and Eudora’s heart soared. She told the Doll of beautiful sights and the rare friendly voice caught behind a closed door or a barred window, and the Doll was intrigued, hanging on the Hunter’s every word. Eudora wondered if the Doll had ever been outside of the Dream – could she even exist in the blood soaked Yharnam? Was she even real?

It didn’t matter either way, she supposed.

 (Gehrman caught her talking with the Doll once, but only once. “As I said at the start, the whole of the Dream is at your disposal, Hunter. Even the Doll. But don’t get attached. ‘Snot real, is it?” He cackled. She’d stormed off, feeling foolish and doubtful and angry, so angry. Angry that the pig of a man would dare to doubt the one good thing in her cursed existence and write it off as a one-sided _use._

She was more careful after that.)

Sometimes she’d find little trinkets, lovely pieces of fancy and pomp that were useless in the Nightmare now, and evidence of life Before. She ignored them at first, but the closer she became with the Doll the more she noticed them. She’d find her pockets filled with little gifts for her; ivory combs and silver necklaces, ribbons and bows (the less blood-spattered the better), even a dress found its way into her pack on occasion. She gave them to the doll only when she knew they were alone, not trusting that Gehrman would keep his thoughts to himself if he saw.

The Doll was always shocked when the gifts were revealed. She sobbed without tears on occasion, giggled when Eudora wove ribbons into her soft white hair and fluttered under the compliments the Hunter happily gave to her. Eudora lived for those moments of sentiment. She wasn’t sure what the Doll did with the gifts she gave her – she never saw the ribbons in her hair after she left, but she hoped the Doll kept them somewhere, allowed herself that selfishness. Eudora didn’t know what this longing meant, what its name was, what it was. All she knew was that she would slay every beast a thousand times over if only to make her smile.

Perhaps it was love.

**Author's Note:**

> So basically this is a place to store my little mini-fics about my hunter Eudora Grimwig. I dont give a fuuuuck about canon or the timeline and will probably break it very cheerfully in favor of giving Eudora and the Plain Doll a fluffy happy ending away from all the blood demons and such. I've drawn Eudora multiple times, which you can find on tumblr!


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